I don’t know why Max’s file spoke to me the first time I read it, but it did. It was heartbreaking. While I certainly can’t condone his actions, a part of me sympathizes with him and even understands his reasoning. When I looked at his pictures, something in his eyes felt like he was looking right at me. I know that sounds insane. It’s still true. Meeting him in person should have pulled me out of my dreamland. Meeting him like this, definitely should have. So what’s wrong with me?
He scares me, more than a little. He also intrigues me. My mind is whirling with all these feelings and questions and a healthy dose of panic mixed in, maybe that’s why I keep quiet. Maybe it’s because I know I’ve pushed him too far. Whatever it is, I don’t say another word until we make it to the other side of the water. He falls, somehow being careful not to let me hit the ground. I’m cocooned in his body. I can’t help, but take note of how he protects me with just that simple gesture. It reinforces that I’m safe with him. I’ve mouthed off to him constantly, and he’s not done one thing about it. In fact, had he not kidnapped me, I don’t think I would have survived the prison riot and break out. I can still remember the look in that other man’s eyes as he touched me. If I didn’t already have chills running through my body from the water, just that memory alone would be enough to chill me to my bones.
Max moves me off of him and rolls away on his back, breathing hard. As further proof that I’m a little nuts, I instantly miss having him under me. I lie on the ground looking up at the crystal blue sky, praying the sun warms me. My thoughts are spinning, and I have no idea what to do or say now. That’s when I feel his large hand wrap around my ankle. I jerk and sit up watching him as he breaks the heel off my hundred dollar, Nine-West, gladiator heels that I got on sale for forty-nine dollars. I was so proud of those shoes! I mourn their loss and want to kill Max for destroying them!
“What are you doing? Those are my favorite shoes, you moron!”
He watches me as he throws the heel into the water. It lands with a plop, and before I can jerk my other foot away, he repeats his actions. I am getting ready to unleash the fires of hell, like only a woman who lost a beloved pair of pumps can, when he jerks me so that I am forced to roll over on my stomach. I raise my head up, or else I’d be eating marshland. I put my hands on either side of my body and try to push up so I can get away. He doesn’t allow that. Instead, what he does next, takes my breath.
He roughly handles me so that my lower half is arched over his body. Somehow, and I don’t even know how, he reaches his hand under and unbuttons my slacks and then crudely pulls them down exposing my ass. None of this is gentle in the least, especially since my clothes are wet and trying to stick to my body. I want to scream, I might have. I’m just not sure. I’m definitely in shock. That’s surely the only reason why I’m not kicking and screaming to get away from Max. His large hand lands on my exposed ass and the impact of his hand on my skin resonates around us. I’m wearing my pink, no line briefs that rise high on the ass and feel like silk. They’re my favorite pair, and I’ve loved them up until this point. Yet, with the contact of his hand, half on the skin of my buttock and the half on the silk, it stings badly. I inhale at the pain and try my best to wiggle away from him, but Max clamps one hand down on my lower back and makes it impossible for me to move. He delivers another slap, and the tears sting my eyes.
“Don’t do this Max, I…”
Slap.
“Max!”
Slap. Slap.
I stop protesting. Something in the way he delivers his reprimand lets me know that objecting will only make it worse. The contact burns and the cool air hitting my skin only makes that worse. But somewhere around eight or ten spankings, it stops being something I endure. The pain is there, but it’s different. He’s careful to never hit the same spot twice, he just grazes as his hand hits a different area each time. When the last sound of his hand connecting on my ass is ringing in my ears, and nothing else happens, I find my body reacting against my will. My ass pushes up into the air, searching out his touch, wanting it—needing it. He spanks me again, and I bite my lip. It doesn’t stop the moan that escapes. His rough hand moves over my ass, caressing it, almost as if praising me. I’m confused by my response. I’m aroused and ready to beg for more. I should be terrified. I’m not. He slides his hand under my panties and touches the stinging skin. I whimper as his fingers stroke against my opening and the moisture there is exposed.
“Fuck,” he groans and then slides his fingers inside of me.